


Firedrake

by the_kiwi_is_not_a_pewee



Category: Drachenreiter | Dragon Rider - Cornelia Funke
Genre: Inspired by Novel, Inspired by Real Events, Other, Sestina, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 01:16:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18768214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_kiwi_is_not_a_pewee/pseuds/the_kiwi_is_not_a_pewee
Summary: A sestina I wrote in 10th grade inspired by my brother reading "Dragon Rider" to me when I was little.





	Firedrake

In a glass globe, there used to be a dragon  
who visited me, on rustling wings of paper pages.  
His voice sculpted a world, from the moon to the mountains,  
down to the sea, up to the moon’s celestial brother.  
Restless mind quiets, but begs not to sleep  
yet. The demanding close of the chapter.

I wake, another unending chapter,  
waiting in my den for the voice of the dragon.  
Patience, darkening sky, do not fall to sleep.  
The ink-paper waits for no one and everyone to page  
through its waiting heart. Its brothers  
chronicle the world, from the moon to the mountains.

I remember the snow at the peak of the mountains,  
falling as dictated by the voice, an invoker in a chapter  
of events. A drawn in brother  
traces his way through the world’s dragon.  
Like the snow, soft and silent, pages  
drift down to cover my eyes from sleep.

The voice tweaks the world into sleep  
as the end falls closer, closer to the mountains.  
Plastered in snowy ink pages,  
the beginning of the cycled chapter  
rings out in the rustled air. A dragon  
rises on his paper wings to search longer for his brothers.

The sun demands the sky back, as a pushy brother,  
banishing the black enchantment of sleep.  
I wonder if the voice of the flying dragon  
will reach the rising mountains.  
A journey is sectioned to stories, to chapters,  
down to the inky words painted on pages.

The world is a red carpet of paper pages.  
I walk with them, inked sisters and brothers,  
turning flipping papers into flying chapters.  
Rushing away to reach the conclusion before sleep  
reaches us. At the peak of the mountains,  
I can hear the carrying voice of the dragon.  
The world collapses back into the pages as my mind tumbles back into sleep.  
My brother brought us to the mountains.  
The chapter slips away as the dragon’s voice fades away.

**Author's Note:**

> Cornelia Funke's books, specifically Dragon Rider and Inkheart, have had a significant impact on my childhood. Unfortunately, I have not had the pleasure of reading them in their native German, but my brother has read them to me when I was little. It's one of the fondest memories I have. This sestina that I wrote for a school project is heavily based off of Dragon Rider. It is probably the only semi-decent poem I will ever write because I'm usually a story-writer, not a poet, and truthfully this is the only poetic attempt I've made that I'm actually proud of.


End file.
